


Midnight Munchies: A Crack!Fic

by Huntress69



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress69/pseuds/Huntress69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Searching for food in the middle of the night</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Munchies: A Crack!Fic

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Dedicated to anyone who has ever craved a midnight snack and could not get what they wanted
> 
> 2) Blame it on Jya: **She posted:** _"Hi. Welcome to Popeye's. We're running out of chicken, would you like to try McDonald's?"_
> 
> **I replied:** _How about going to KFC and having them tell you they are out of chicken? It happened to me one night, they say they are open until 2, which is great when I have munchies at midnight, but please do not tell me you are out of chicken. Same thing with Wendy's - have been to the late one twice, and both times not only out of burgers, but out of baked potatoes. Why stay open until 2 if you are out of food by 12?_
> 
> **She posted:** _McDonald's 24 hour drive thru - they don't announce that the menu goes over to breakfast at 3 a.m. for starters, then on top of that, don't tell you that all you can buy off the dinner menu after 2:30 is whatever's been sitting on the rack since whenever. Vampires, werewolves and other creatures of the night like us need to start our own restaurants and tell the day people to shove off. There's a SPN fic in this somewhere, but my Muse is too hungry to think straight. Think we can bribe yours?_
> 
> And so this fic was born...and of course I took everything to the extreme...

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Feel free to sue. I have nothing and going to court would be a welcome distraction from the insanity known as my life.**

**************

One hunt done and it had been a difficult one.

A quartet of zombies, and it just so happened they had once been one of Dean's favorite rock bands. 

Dean was so depressed that he voluntarily gave Sam the keys to the Impala and slumped in the passenger seat. "I had to blow Dave's head off," he sighed, "and decapitate Freddy's and Jace's."

Sam, having never liked the group, grinned as he added, "And I got to torch Luke." At the glare he received, he gunned the engine and quickly said, "How 'bout some food?"

"Where?"

"Anywhere," Sam shrugged. "Almost every fast food place is open all hours of the night."

"I want chicken," Dean said softly.

"If that's what you want, Dean, that is what you shall have...."

**~~~~~~~~**

** 1:45 a.m.: Popeye's Fried Chicken **

"Hi. Welcome to Popeye's. We're out of chicken; would you like to try McDonald's?"

"How could you be out of chicken?" Dean snarled. 

"We close at two, and we're not making any more right now."

"I **want** chicken," Dean sneered.

"We're out, but McDonalds is right down the street." The voice was cheery....

....Dean's was not. "I want some fucking chicken!"

"Sir, there's no need for that sort of language."

"Sam," Dean whined, "I want chicken."

"It's okay, Dean," Sam soothed, patting his brother on the arm. "We'll just go to..." he gulped, "...McDonald's."

"Thanks, Sam," Dean smiled a little. "And don't worry; it's the middle of the night so I don't think you have to worry about that stupid clown."

**~~~~~~~~**

** 1:55 a.m.: McDonald's **

Dean was holding on to Sam's arm as they walked into McDonald's. "It's only a fast food joint, Sammy. I don't know why you get so nervous."

Sam pointed to the life-sized, plastic Ronald McDonald. "He scares me."

"Oh, and the succubus from last weekend didn't?" Dean rolled his eyes. "Twenty-seven going on six. I'll get you three Big Kid Happy Meals, okay?"

That seemed to satisfy Sam, and they placed their order, sitting down to eat.

Sam had a mouth full of fries and **had** happily reverted to six, playing with one of his toy Tonka trucks with his left hand and making "vroom-vroom" noises. His right hand was bringing a double hamburger to his mouth, but halfway there he froze, staring over Dean's shoulder. "It's...it's...."

"Demon?"

"No," Sam squeaked.

"Then what?" When Sam didn't answer, Dean turned his head. "Oh fuck, not in the middle of the night."

"We're leaving!" Sam gathered their food, snatched the chicken sandwich from Dean and tossed it all in the trash.

Dean stared at his now empty hands. "That was the last chicken sandwich they had." He pouted. "And you threw away my apple pies, too." Sam was already outside, and as for Dean, he was grinding his teeth as he faced the pasty-faced, red-nosed man. "This is your fault!" He knocked Ronald McDonald out cold before rejoining Sam.

**~~~~~~~~**

** 2:15 a.m.: Taco Bell **

Sam had finally convinced Dean to give up on chicken, and sometime later they were approaching a Taco Bell. "So you'll have beef, or pseudo-beef, and it'll be okay."

Dean was grumbling, he so wanted chicken, but reluctantly agreed.

Sam scanned the menu and then ordered. "Two beef burritos, six tacos, a double order of Cinna-Twists and some nachos with extra cheese."

"I'm sorry," the sweet voice said through the speaker, "but we're out of beef."

Sam hit the gas before Dean could get out of the car.

**~~~~~~~~**

** 2:30 a.m.: Wendy's **

"Four Doublestacks, two with extra onions and pickles, 2 bacon and cheese baked potatoes, 1 side salad and 2 vanilla Frosty's."

"We're out of pickles," the youngish voice said. 

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam put up his hand, motioning him to stay quiet. "That's okay." He smiled at Dean. "So you'll have your burgers with no pickles; you'll live."

"And we only have chocolate."

"Chocolate is fine."

"Uh, sir?"

"Yes?" Sam replied.

"We only have one baked potato left."

**~~~~~~~~**

** 2:40 a.m.: Burger King **

Dean was happily bouncing up and down when the girl came to the counter. "I want a chicken sandwich, onion rings and a coke."

"I'm sorry, but at 2:30 we switch to our breakfast menu. Would you like some French Toast?"

"WHAT?!" Dean looked homicidal and reached into the back of his pants, but Sam's hand on his stilled it. 

"No, Dean," Sam whispered, "you may not shoot the kid behind the counter."

"They switched to their breakfast menu!"

"We can have eggs." Sam rubbed his hand up and down Dean's back. "It's chicken...sort of."

"I don't want eggs, Sam."

"Uh, maybe you have...." Sam was thinking as he spoke to the girl. "A chicken sandwich that's maybe...uh...left over?"

"We couldn't serve it to you, sir," she giggled. "It could make you sick."

"You never ate my father's cooking," Sam sighed. "We'll take it and take our chances with the botulism."

"I can't do that, and I'm sorry." She shrugged. "But since there's nobody else here, I'll add in some hash browns at no charge."

"I hate my life," Dean groused as he left.

"I hate your life, too," Sam added under his breath.

**~~~~~~~~**

** 2:55 a.m.: KFC **

"Oh shit!" Dean was laughing. "Look at that, Sammy! It's a KFC!"

"Thank God," Sam muttered. 

Dean went to the drive-up, grinned at Sam, and spoke very calmly into the microphone. "Your biggest bucket of chicken, a family-sized mashed potatoes, two corns-on-the-cob," he glanced at Sam, "and a side salad."

"We're waiting for our late night delivery, sir," the cheery voice replied. "The truck should be here in about 10 minutes."

Dean swung around to the front, got out, went to the trunk, removed a shotgun, aimed at the large picture of Colonel Sanders and promptly shot out the window. "The Colonel has been executed," he cackled, leading Sam to wonder (not for the first time that night) if his brother had left some of his sanity in Hell. Dean tossed the gun on the front seat, stepped through the window casually and grabbed the cashier by the shirt, pulling him halfway over the counter. "You are going to get me some chicken, because if you don't, I am going to rip out your spleen."

Sam followed him in, concerned that in Dean's current mood, he might do (more) damage; not to the kid, but to the store. "He really likes chicken," he laughed nervously. 

"When I have my chicken, I will let you go." Dean was staring at the man with wild eyes; he looked like a lunatic. 

The cashier looked like he was going to cry. "I don't have any chicken. No fried, no baked, no broiled. Please don't hurt me."

"God dammit!" Sam grabbed Dean. "Cops, Dean."

They fled the KFC, and as they were pulling away, Dean fired his shotgun one last time at the huge Colonel Sanders head on display in front, shattering it into little pieces.

**~~~~~~~~**

** 3:15 a.m.: On the road **

Dean slammed on the brakes, shut off the engine, and flew out of the car, not even bothering to close his door.

Sam couldn't figure it out, until he noticed the sign that read _Kripke's Chicken Farm_. By the time he got out of the car and followed into one of the coops, Dean was waving a hatchet and chasing the chickens around. 

"Here chickie-chickie. One of you is going to be my dinner." Dean finally got a hold of one and held it tight. "The Colonel has nothing on me." He was about to swing the hatchet down when the chicken struggled, he lost his balance and fell on his ass. "Oh no you don't." Dean dove for the chicken but missed. 

Sam gave up and just leaned against the door, arms crossed, watching his brother make a fool out of himself. 

Dean couldn't grab a chicken. It was as if they knew which of them he was going for and the moment he went after one, it got away. 

"Enough, Dean." Sam snatched the hatchet from him. "You're going to end up hacking your fingers off."

"I'm hungry, Sammy, and I'm cranky."

"Let's go find a motel," Sam framed Dean's face in his palms and kissed him chastely, "and I'll buy you a Snickers bar from the vending machine."

"Can I bottom?"

"We'll do _Rock, Paper, Scissors_."

"But I always lose."

"You never know, Dean," Sam smiled and kissed him again.

**~~~~~~~~**

The first motel they found was the _Enchanted Forest Inn_ , which made Dean laugh. 

"Pretty appropriate for us, Sam."

"I'll get us a room." Sam went inside. "One king," he told the clerk.

"Only got twins left," the clerk drawled.

"Fine," Sam replied, wondering if a higher power was conspiring against them.

They got to the room and Dean was pouting again. "Two beds, Sam? Are you pissed about the chicken?"

"If that was the case, we'd have separate rooms," Sam told him. "This is all they had."

"You can sleep on top of me," Dean said, tossing his stuff on one of the beds.

"Fine with me." Sam couldn't resist another kiss, but drew back as Dean tried to deepen it. "I owe you a candy bar, and I'll be right back." 

"I'll be waiting." Dean leered and began to get undressed.

There were no vending machines at this particular motel, so Sam went across the street to the 7-11, wearing a big grin as he found chicken taquitos. "This should make him happy." He returned to the room ten minutes later to find Dean sprawled on top of the covers, fast asleep. Sam could have woken him, but obviously Dean needed the rest, and Sam decided to allow him the luxury of sleep. "Sweet dreams, Dean." Sam kissed him and took the other bed, knowing if he crawled into the small twin with him, Dean would wake up. So instead he watched Dean from the other bed until his eyes finally drifted shut.

**~~~~~~~~**

Sam was woken by the sounds of soft moans, and the sight of Dean still asleep, jerking himself off, obviously in the midst of a wet dream. He watched Dean for a few moments before getting out of bed, washed up and then went to the other bed, knelt between Dean's legs, slid two fingers along his inner thighs, fondled his balls....

Dean's eyes popped open and he threw Sam onto the floor. 

"Owww! That hurt." Sam sat up and rubbed his head.

Dean got out of bed, stepped over him, and walked to the bathroom. "Well, if you'd let me sleep, I wouldn't have hurt you." He washed up and came out, starting the coffee pot.

"And maybe if you didn't sleep like that I'd have left you alone." Sam stood behind him, his arms wrapping around Dean's body. 

Dean leaned into him, taking a deep breath. "I was just sleeping, Sam. Nothing special there." 

Sam turned him so they were facing. "Yeah, sleeping naked, with your legs wide open and your hand playing with yourself. That's a great way to get me to leave you alone." He took Dean's hands in his, placing a kiss to each. 

"Why didn't you wake me up last night?" Dean asked, licking Sam's neck. "And why did you sleep in the other bed?"

"Because I am an awesome brother and you needed the rest." Sam smirked and pressed his body close, his hands gliding down Dean's arms, to his waist. He leaned down to suckle a nipple and then turned his attention to the other, nipping it. Dean threw his head back and banged it against the wall. "You okay?" Sam asked, hearing the thud. 

"Fine, Sam," Dean whispered. "Don't stop." 

"Not a chance." Sam's hands moved down and groped Dean's ass, pulling their body's flush up against each other. 

Dean began to grind against him, mashing his lips over Sam's and the two began to walk together towards the bed, but lost their balance and fell into a chair. Dean slid off of Sam, onto his knees and looked up at Sam with a wicked grin. He ran his hands and face up the inside of Sam's legs, then leaned back and stared. No matter how many times Dean saw him naked, he was in awe of Sam's body. 

Sam sat on the edge of the chair, his legs splayed, hands grasping the sides.

"Perfect, Sam, always perfect." Dean licked stripes up and down Sam's dick, his hands finding purchase under his ass, and he swallowed Sam deeply.

Sam watched, stroking Dean's hair, pumping his dick even deeper, moaning louder as he felt the tip caressing the back of Dean's throat. "I'm gonna come...oh God...oh yeah...." 

Dean pulled back for just a moment and wet his fingers. He slid two deep inside Sam's tight hole as he swallowed the length again. He moaned around Sam's dick, feeling the spurts of hot come shooting down his throat, licking his lips as he pulled back, the remains dribbling down his chin. "That tastes a hell of a lot better than chocolate and coffee rolled into one." 

Sam bent his head for a kiss, licking his come from Dean's face. "You need to brush your teeth?"

"Nah," Dean shook his head, "I'm good." 

Sam slid off the chair and onto the carpet, grabbing the seat cushion and placing it under Dean's head as he knelt over Dean's body. "Gonna ride you now, ride you hard." He took Dean's still-hard cock in his hand and began to lower himself.

"Sammy...."

There were times that Sam hated that nickname, but not now, not when they were like this. When Dean called him that when they made love, it was always with a sigh, with reverence and it turned him on. He moved slow, taking a little in at a time, knowing his pace was driving Dean crazy. There was also the fact that it gave his dick a chance to come back to life. He felt Dean's balls resting against his skin and rocked back and forth. 

Dean began to move with him. "Ride 'em cowboy." 

"Love your cock...so deep inside me...so hard, so thick...."

"Tell me you're mine." Dean thrust up. "Tell me there's nobody else." His nails raked down Sam's chest, leaving red marks. "Tell me, Sammy...tell me...."

Sam lifted himself, laced his fingers with Dean's and said the words Dean wanted to hear. "I love you." He slammed down hard, Dean's come filling him and he threw his head back as he came again, all over Dean's chest.

"God, Sammy, you are everything to me." Dean pulled Sam's mouth to his. "Everything...." The kiss was tender and Sam slid back. 

"My knees have rug burn."

"That's my Sammy, always the romantic."

Sam stuck his tongue out and got a washcloth so they could clean up. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'd like to get some chicken," Dean snickered. "Maybe two buckets."

"Not a problem." Sam grabbed his pants. "I'll go find you some." 

There was a knock at the door and the brothers shrugged, both wondering who it was. They both grabbed a weapon, prepared for the worst, as usual.

"Who is it?" Sam asked. 

"Food."

"That voice is familiar," Dean said, although his own gun didn't waiver in his hands.

Sam slowly opened the door and just gawked at the man standing there; the man in a chicken suit.

As he handed the bag to Sam, he looked totally embarrassed and spoke in a flat monotone. "I'm Cluck-Cluck the chicken and here are your wings, there are also greasy French Fries and other good things." He sighed heavily. "To wash it all down, a six pack of beer, we won't let you go hungry, so don't ever fear."

Sam blinked, his mouth dropping open, but he finally got it together. "Uh...thanks? And what's with the outfit?"

"I lost a bet."

"Oh...okay." Sam slammed the door. He heard the knocking and opened it again. 

"I believe I am entitled to a tip."

"Don't wear that out in public." Sam laughed out loud before closing the door again.

"Was that....?" Dean asked, opening the bag and taking out the food.

"Yep." Sam stared at the closed door. "Business must be slow."

"I feel sorry for him." Dean laid out the banquet that had been brought to them.

"Me too," Sam agreed. "But the food looks good."

"Let's eat, Sam."

**~~~~~~~~**

Outside, the man in the chicken suit was turning all shades of red, finally settling on crimson. 

"I'll get you for this, Anna," Castiel sneered, as he disappeared into the morning dawn. "You will pay in spades."

**THE END...and aren't you glad it is?**


End file.
